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Just pure torture I tell you. I speak the truth.

I was trying to decide if I was going to blog about this or just keep it to myself, Superdad and my friend Anna. Ha ha! I had to tell someone who could enjoy the laugh with me.

It totally sucks that it's bathing suit season already and I have to suck my gut in and pretend to be a size 7 so I feel good wearing a bathing suit but now I also have to worry about my girly hair. AKA the bush. I'm a huge fan of the Save the Bush campaign but I may have changed my mind.

I get so tired of shaving my bikini line only to break out and start to itch when the hair grows back. How is that attractive while wearing a nice bathing suit that makes you like a size 7? So I thought I would give waxing a try. Sure, I knew it had to hurt because ripping hair from your body is bound to hurt. Right?

Yes, IT HURT LIKE HELL!!! Torture for women. "There are ways to make you talk." Said with my best accent. Before you ask, no, I didn't take it all off because I want to look like I've been through puberty!!!

I cannot believe how badly it hurt and I was so glad when it was over I could have danced a jig! There is a good thing about it all, the pain goes away quick and upkeep is a breeze.

OUCH!! For some reason I kept picturing Mel Gibson in What Women Want when he was waxing his legs. I figure I have to live each day in chronic pain, nothing is getting plucked, pulled or waxed. As for the itcy bumps...here's the solution

The "Death Star" was spread out over a few months. Every six to eight weeks. I had about four sessions at about $50/ session. I used a relax and wax cream that made the area less sensitive so each treatment was easier and easier. That was last year. This year, I have to do NOTHING! Woo hoo! The bush is overrated. I think my 2 kids are proof positive I went through puberty ;)

Michelle LeeI Love Incomplete Sentences

I feel compelled to tell you my life story simply because it's that comedy show everyone lives. It's good to know you aren't alone in this crazy world of motherhood! I often refer to myself as June Cleaver with leopard print heels and pearls.